Read All About It
by TheAlmostLover
Summary: 6 years after what they had slipped away from them, Hermione is the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, and Severus finds himself wondering if the woman he loved is somewhere under the cold, calculated gaze of her political mask. Through pain, trauma, and betrayal, will they ever find their way back to each other? Warning: Contains non-graphic mentions of rape, PTSD, and torture.
1. Words to Change a Nation

Severus and Draco stood amongst a crowd of onlookers, waiting for the Director of the Magical Law Enforcement division of the Ministry to take the stand and begin her speech. It was a strange day, indeed, as it was rare that the Director was willing to gather excessive media attention with a sporadic press conference of this size. As such, everyone of import - from shop owners to scholars and every politician in between - gathered in the Atrium, nervously awaiting her arrival.

Severus was usually not among those that gathered for her speeches, for a variety of reasons, but he had agreed to accompany Draco on this particular day, as he'd been given a personal advisement of today's subject. When he approached Severus about accompanying him earlier in the week, Severus had been hesitant at the least, but ultimately could not refuse. The poor boy did not deserve to stand alone in a crowd like this, and Severus understood why attending was necessary. Whether he liked it or not – and there were days where he most definitely did _not –_ Draco was his godson, and Severus was the closest thing to a father that he had left.

A few moments after the crowd assembled, the Director took the stage beside the Statue of the Fallen, and the room fell silent. In her Muggle pantsuit and formal robes, she set herself to rights on the podium with Harry and Ginevera Potter filing in behind her, assuming the chairs that were set beside her. This was indeed a very unusual press conference. While Draco and Severus both knew the reason for the gathering, it seemed that they could not set any expectations for this event. It was rare that Hermione Granger held a press conference, but she had _never_ spoken beside Potter; especially not after he left the department.

After a second or two of righting her robes and smiling at a few of her colleagues in the audience – Severus and Draco excluded, of course – she finally began, "Hello, everyone. As abnormal as it is for us to gather here today, we have very important matters to discuss."

Severus took a moment to roll his eyes during her pause; the familiarity of her voice was disorienting, but the change in her oration was too much for him to bear. He could not _stand_ politics. The comings and goings of the Director were no longer his concern, but he could not help the frustration that accompanied seeing her putting on this public face. She was no longer the woman that he had known; she was just a mask worn for the public. His disappointment was overwhelming.

Pulling him from his thoughts, she continued, "It has recently been brought to my attention that the quality of security and treatment of the prisoners confined within Azkaban is unacceptable." Another pause before she continued, "Earlier in the week, Lucius Malfoy - currently serving a twenty five year sentence - was beaten, tortured, and sodomized within the walls of his cell, which are only accessible to the guards."

There was a gasp from the crowd but, ultimately, the majority of them seemed to be in a state of shock. Severus knew this was her intended impact, but Draco still looked a bit pale. Severus couldn't imagine it was possible to put that from your mind, regardless of what kind of man his father was, and tried to smother his annoyance and listen as she continued.

"When I approached Warden McLaggen about the conditions of the prison, he refused to consider a reformation of procedure. Minister Shacklebolt has taken a similar stance and is refusing to fight for the human rights that these men and women deserve. The men we have chosen to lead us are refusing to perform their duties, and this is why I stand before you today."

He knew what she was in for with a statement like that, but he had to wonder if this was something that she was anticipating. The malicious part of him was hoping she hadn't, but even after six years, he knew her. She would not be taken by surprise; she was never one for being underprepared. He was certain there was something else up her sleeve. He just wasn't sure he had the stomach to listen to it. Soon, the crowd started in on her.

"He did worse with You Know Who!" Someone shouted.

"How can you defend him?" Another outraged voice cried.

The final scream that he heard, however, made him flinch.

"He deserved everything he got!"

The Director threw a hand in the air, and the crowd fell into silence as she began to speak once more.

"Lucius Malfoy is _not_ a good man, and that will never be argued, but let me tell you something, ladies and gentlemen, that you will not find in any book, any paper, or any diary." She paused again, and he felt a feeling of dread growing inside him.

Again, Severus took a look around and observed the reaction of the crowd. While there were a few disgruntled faces, the majority of them seemed to be very invested, as though they were about to hear a juicy piece of gossip around the cauldron. It bothered him to see that Hermione - no, the Director - had become the kind of person that knew exactly what to say to get people on her side. She had never been this person before; he couldn't help but wonder how she'd fallen so far.

"Lucius Malfoy has done some terrible things. That much we know," He heard her continue, pulling him from his thoughts, "What you don't know is that he personally took a hand in the destruction of the lives of the people you call your _heroes._ Ginevera Potter was possessed and nearly died because of him. Harry Potter _did_ die because of him, and I lay on the floor of his parlor being tortured while he stood in a corner and watched. He sat there and watched as his sister in law cut _this_ ," she told them as she dramatically threw back her sleeve, clearly displaying _Mudblood_ to the world, "into my flesh. He laughed as my innocence was taken away."

Nobody else spoke, and there were no gasps. All eyes were locked on her, waiting for her next move. He remembered that scar well; he would never forget the nights she laid awake and stared at it, wondering how she could possibly be beautiful to him when she was so scarred. He'd done everything he could. She knew she would always be beautiful in his eyes, and that wasn't enough. He'd made every potion in every book and created three of his own to get rid of the bloody thing altogether, but it was impossible. He couldn't remember how many nights his failure had kept him awake over the years. Now, apparently, it was nothing but a political tool. He supposed she was grateful for his incompetence, since it made such a phenomenal shock factor in her speeches these days. His hateful thoughts continued to roll through his mind, and regretfully she began to speak again.

"This, we already know," she said, and he thought for a moment that this clipped tone was more a self defense mechanism than a public speaking technique, but he was never one to give her unnecessary praise, "So, I ask you, if I can stand before you today and tell you that the man who stood silently in a corner and watched as I was tortured, the man who _laughed_ as he _raped_ me, deserves his rights, how can you look me in the eye and say he does not?"

The crowd shouted in outrage, Severus went stiff, and Draco froze beside him, clearly unable to think. The younger man's eyes turned to him, burning with accusation, but Severus couldn't look back to him. He could feel the bile churning in his stomach as he stared at Hermione's face. His instincts told him to rush to the stage and wrap his arms around her. He prepared himself to tell her how undeniably wonderful she was and how nothing would change it. He remembered holding her to his chest as she cried about the things that Lucius had done. He remembered her cringing at his first touch, as if it was _he_ that had raped her. He remembered the pain that he'd felt being unable to console her, her nearly overdosing on contraceptive potion when he left her for just a few short hours, having to restrain her after she nearly scrubbed her skin raw, and every instinct in him told him to run to her, but she was not that unstable now.

He could practically hear her sobs echoing off the walls of their chambers, but when he looked at her, she was the epitome of control. Her features were schooled into a challenging look, but something about it seemed off. He wondered, if only for a moment, how long it had taken her to decide to share that with the public. Now, she stood in front of thousands, announcing her most private information to the world with a blank face. There was no emotion left in her. He was no longer certain if he had ever known the woman who stood at the podium at all. The woman he thought he'd known kept her secrets to herself, suffered in unbearable silence, and hoped that people would change based on their inherent goodness alone. Now, this woman before him showed no traces of that hope; there was nothing sacred to her anymore, and he wondered if there'd ever been.

Before long, she continued, but Severus could hardly bear to listen, "The residents of Azkaban may have committed acts that are entirely inhumane, but they are still _human_. Lucius Malfoy deserved to feel safe in the place that was supposed to be helping him recuperate. If _I_ truly believe this, despite everything that man has done to me, if we all can," she said, her voice getting louder as she gestured behind her to the Potters, "Then I urge you to stand with us, to keep that faith you had in us seven years ago as Voldemort fell, and demand that Minister Shacklebolt and Director McLaggen provide these men and women with their rights. Not the rights that you may think they have _earned,_ but the rights that they _deserve._ "

The crowd seemed to mull this over for just a moment, and soon the audience burst into synchronized applause. Severus did not include himself in that group, but he watched as they broke into a fit of hollering and cheering. Her ability to manipulate a crowd was astounding, and the poise she kept was impressive, but he could not put the earlier moments of the day from his mind. He had often wondered if she learned to keep her emotions from her face during her time with him, but he tried not to give himself too much credit. He didn't teach her much of anything outside a Potions classroom; that much was made clear to him today.

She had forgotten about him the very moment they said goodbye, and she'd turned into _this_. Whatever she was now, he no longer knew her, and he didn't care to. Yes, it was clear that she had been doing well for Wizarding Britain, but he could no longer see the woman he once loved in her eyes. She was cold, abrupt, and the hope and ambition that once glimmered in her eyes was replaced with the shine of political power and policy influence. It was clear that this job truly was her life.

Looking at her made him sick.


	2. Biting Your Tongue

Within just a few months, the Minister had twisted his stance, and there were new standards being put into place in Azkaban. The public was positively outraged, not to mention incessantly passionate, after the press conference and there wasn't a single paper in the Wizarding World that hadn't referred to the Ministry as incompetent or lacking in compassion. The Minister released a thirty point list of new security and hiring expectations, as well as a bill of inmate rights, and the public finally seemed to be satiated. McLaggen was desperately rushing to wrap them up and keep his job, and there were now very few papers that didn't feature the Director of Magical Law Enforcement on the cover. He'd know, of course, because he'd began something of a collection of them.

While, in the years prior, he'd done everything he could possibly do to avoid the sight of her, Severus now found himself analyzing every photo of Hermione that he could get his hands on. After seeing her at the press conference, he renewed his years outdated subscription to the Daily Prophet. He wasn't sure if it was because he wanted to know that she was okay or needed to know that she wasn't, but he couldn't get the cold, dead look in her eyes to leave his mind. So far, it had been mostly political jargon he had no interest in, but one thing never changed: he didn't recognize the woman in the picture.

He had no criticisms for a political figure with a firm understanding of emotional control; in fact, he was certain that Britain would be better off if there had been more of them. However, the Director was no true politician. She was the woman that he, as much as he loathe to admit it, once believed to be his Twin Flame. She was beautiful, kind, and hopeless to a fault, but now she wasn't just controlled, she was cold and empty, and her willingness to abandon everything about who she once was to further her politics unnerved him. He just wanted to see one glimmer of the woman she used to be. He wanted to know that she was still in there somewhere. He wasn't sure for what purpose other than his own assurances one way or another, but he _needed_ to see it.

It was while he was lost in these thoughts on a dreary Tuesday morning that two aurors walked into his shop, wands at the ready, for seemingly no reason at all, and he wondered if he really needed to know anything about that woman ever again. Severus clutched his wand tightly in his robe, prepared to remove them himself should they be causing undue trouble, and closely watched them wander up and down each aisle of the empty apothecary. One of the aurors, a younger boy who could have been a Weasley if his hair were just a bit more nauseating, nodded in his direction before walking out without a word and standing to the side of the entrance. He'd always hated aurors.

Seconds later, the Director herself strolled in, envelope in hand, in one of those god awful pant suits she was so incredibly fond of these days. She looked down at her surroundings, her chin tilted upward as though the very sight of a potions bottle offended her, and Severus couldn't help but roll his eyes. The way she _walked_ bothered him these days, as if she were entitled to the space she was currently occupying, and he could have done without the security intimidation act before her grand entrance, but more disorienting than either of those terribly obnoxious things was the fact that her eyes were filled with exactly the same unidentifiable coldness that had been keeping him awake at night. It was like watching someone else wear her skin, and it was disorienting, at best.

Finally, after he managed to swallow the discomfort in his throat, he said, "In the future, leave your entourage at the door. They aren't welcome in my shop, and I'd have killed you six times between here and the door if I had the mind."

He was not at all pleased by the invasion of his sanctuary, and he was rather insulted that she'd have the audacity to invite herself into the only place he didn't have memories of her. One would think she'd gotten the hint when he refused orders from her department last year, but apparently she was as oblivious, or perhaps as selfishly inconsiderate of his feelings, as she had always been. Either way, she was here, and he wanted that issue resolved in the most timely manner possible.

After a moment of righting her ensemble, she spoke, "Mister Snape, I –"

"My name is Severus," He interrupted, "The formalities are hardly necessary."

She straightened herself out, very apparently disgruntled, and snapped, "I most certainly believe they are, _Mister Snape_."

"I seem to recall you expressing quite the opposite in my chambers," he jibed, leaning over the counter, "So, one must wonder if formalities became necessary after you found yourself a new wizard or after you were awarded your _prestigious_ title."

For just a moment, he would have sworn he saw hurt flash through her eyes. Oddly enough, however, he wasn't sure that he was all that pleased about it. He wasn't sure about anything these days; he was rather perplexed by his emotions in her company.

" _Mister_ _Snape_ ," she began again, her hands gripping her hips tightly, "As the _Director_ of Magical Law Enforcement, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic and all of Wizarding Britain, I would like to personally and formally request your presence at the Conference of Unity, as an expert in Potions, as it relates to weaponization."

He paused for a moment, basking in the discomfort clearly written on her face. As her eyes drifted to the ceiling, Severus wondered how long she'd sat on this before she finally swallowed her pride and approached him. No doubt, it was expected that she deliver it to him in person, although he'd certainly have preferred it delivered by owl. He comforted himself in the knowledge that she was infinitely more uncomfortable than he was.

Finally, he spoke, "And if I intend to decline?"

She sighed, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling once more.

"You needn't do so on my account. Our only interaction will be your introduction." She told him.

"Perhaps, if your vanity can stomach the idea," he began, watching her face grow red while her hands clenched, "You can make it clear that I'm less than inclined to represent your _Ministry_."

"Then you'd be as thoughtlessly rash as I've always known you to be." She told him, throwing the envelope at him and turning to walk away.

He reached down to pick up the envelope and muttered, "If I were not the man I am, Hermione…"

She stopped at the door, her grip on the handle looking dangerously tight from his vantage point, and stared at him for just a moment. The look on her face held some dark amusement he'd never seen in her before.

"What? You'd _hex_ me? You'd lash out like a child and tell me what a _slag_ I am?" She laughed, "You don't scare me anymore, Severus Snape. I've seen you on your _knees_ , so go ahead and give me your best shot."

It was at that moment that Severus decided he was _precisely_ the man he was trying so hard not to be. Never in his life would he have believed that Hermione Granger, of all people, would be so cruel as to throw one of the most vulnerable, traumatic moments he'd experienced in his adult life at him as a barb. In that moment, any affection he might have had for her died, and he wanted her to hurt just as he did.

"I would prefer to beg on my knees than become a trollop for poll numbers." He told her between clenched teeth.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" She indignantly demanded.

"I would never stoop so low as to turn my personal tragedy into a political _sob story_ to garner favor," he seethed, "but I suppose even the mighty must fall."

He watched her eyes widen ever so slightly and her spine straighten, and he knew he had hit his mark.

"I should have let you die." She told him, and he supposed she did too.


End file.
